


The Book of Sad

by flowersforzoe



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-29 16:35:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15733290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforzoe/pseuds/flowersforzoe
Summary: Ian Rider's POV of many events: John's Scorpia mission-John and Helen's death.What happens when MI6's top agent unknowingly leaves his pregnant wife to go and kick Scorpia's ass?





	1. I Didn't Sign Up For This

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider and crew. They belong to Anthony Horowitz. The only thing mine is some of the plot and the OCs. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> -I'm using Alex's birthday as February 13th, 1987.
> 
> -This takes place right after Never Say Die.
> 
> -This fic contains some strong language and sexual innuendos, but nothing too graphic.
> 
> -Orignally posted on fanfiction.net
> 
> I'm welcome to any suggestions, so comment away!

Alex Rider is watching the carpenters in his Chelsea house with his housekeeper, Jack Starbright. They had just returned from Wales. After an around-the-globe search, Alex was glad to have his best friend back. After Jack received her $5 million reward for helping save the Linton Hall children, she decided to renovate the house they shared.

Currently, the carpenters are putting a new carpet in the bedroom that once belonged to Ian Rider, Alex's late uncle. In the closet, one of the carpenters exclaims: "Excuse me boss, but we've found a book under the old carpet." He hands the ratty book to Alex.

Alex examines it and laughs. "Jack! Can you believe Uncle Ian kept a diary! Come on, let's read it! Maybe I can find some dirt on Blunt or something!" He laughs again.

Wanting privacy, he leads Jack to the kitchen once the workers leave. Cracking open the book, they begin to read.

**August 12th, 1986**

"Congratulations on your latest mission, Agent Rider. You have successfully stopped the assassination of the American ambassador." I looked up at my new boss. He was just promoted about 6 months ago. Never have I seen a man so colorless. He stares, awaiting a response. I nod. My boss, Alan Blunt, accepts this and hands me an envelope. He gestures towards the door of his office. "Dismissed, Agent Rider."

I get out of my chair and head for the door. On an impulse, I turn around. "Is there any news on John? Helen and I haven't heard from him in weeks. I thought he was just preparing for the undercover operation."

Blunt glared at me for a few seconds. His expression softened, slightly. "Classified, Rider. Go home, you deserve it."

Sighing, I leave the office. This is the most emotion I've ever seen Blunt portray. Seriously, he's more lizard than human. I get into my car and drive to the dilapidated little house that Helen and John are staying in as a part of his cover.

"Any word on John?" Helen questioned me as soon as I entered her small kitchen.

"Sorry, H," I said, kissing the top of her head. "Bossman won't give anything up. He should be home before he is sent off to Venice, though."

Helen sighed. John hasn't been home in about 5 weeks. Blunt says he is training for his upcoming mission to investigate a new criminal organization called Scorpia. I, however, am growing suspicious. Usually, John at least writes his wife, telling her that he is okay. Helen is concerned too. She is trying to conceal it, but I can tell by the obscene amount of baked goods in the living room. She's always been a stress baker.

I laughed and picked up a muffin, taking a bite. "Damn it, Ian, you'll spoil your dinner!" Helen exclaimed.

"Awww, H? You're cooking for me?" I teased.

"You have an active job, Ian. You need to be well fed. Cheap pizza in that lowlife apartment of yours isn't going to cut it." She said, only half joking.

I laughed, about to say that her house is no better than my apartment, but the phone rang.

Helen ran over to pick it up. "Hello?"

"Helen." The low voice said hastily. "It's John. I haven't got much time, because I'm being sent off to Scorpia tonight. I'm sorry I haven't called. Bossman wouldn't let me. Shit. My plane is boarding. I'll contact you when I can, don't try to call or write me it's too dangerous. And ask Ian if you need anything. Stay safe! I love you so much."

I looked over at Helen. Tears were welling up in the corners of her eyes. I went over to console her, but how the hell do you comfort a woman whose husband may never return? Spy training never covered that.

"Ian, do you think you can stay here tonight? I don't want to be alone." Helen said, still crying. "There isn't much room, though. I hate this stupid house."

"Of course, H," I said gently. "The Couch is only a little lumpy." She hugged me before going back into the kitchen to finish dinner.

**August 13th, 1986**

I wake up on John and Helen's couch with a crick in my neck. Goddamnit, I guess the couch was lumpier than I'd thought. I write Helen a quick note, telling her I'm going to work. I grab a muffin and head to my apartment to change for work.

Walking in, I realize that Helen was right. This place really is a shithole. I should buy a house.

_I've always liked Chelsea,_  I thought,  _I should start looking for a house there._

**August 19th, 1986**

It's official, I'm a homeowner! I bought a beautiful home in the middle of Chelsea.

**August 23rd, 1986**

I'm at the Royal and General Bank when my office phone rings.

"Hello, you've reached the office of Ian Rider," I answered. "How can I assist you?"

"Ian! Cut the shit! I need a ride." Helen.

I was taken aback by Helen's panicked tone and sharp language. She is usually a very collected person. "H? What's wrong?" I said slowly.

"I need your help. Come pick me up, it's an emergency." I paused briefly, considering telling her that I can't pick her up because Blunt is a hardass and won't let me skip work. "Ian! Just get your ass down here!" Helen yelled again, making up my mind for me.

I race into Blunt's office, mumbling something about a family emergency. He gave me a puzzled look. "Agent Rider..." Blunt starts, but I'd already left. I ignored confused faces as I zoomed to my car. I sped to Helen's house, expecting to find her in a pool of blood. However, as it turns out, Helen's lack of blood is the issue at hand.

She hugs me quickly, before getting into the passenger seat of my car. "Ian," she pants, clearly out of breath, " I need you to do me a huge favor, no questions asked."

I'm about to protest, but this is my brother's wife, and he left me to take care of her in his absence, so I just go along with Helen's pleading. Nodding slowly, I say "Anything for you, H. Where are we going?"

"The pharmacy." She replied. I turned left, in the direction of the local drugstore, suppressing my hundred questions.

She barely waited for the car to come to a complete stop before raceing inside. I decide to stay in the car, both curious and wary about Helen's plans.

Ten minutes later, Helen comes out holding a bag, and two bottles of water. She hands one to me and drinks her own in record time. Still confused, I ask where she wants to go next, to which she replies "home."

Everything seems to be calm for now, so I sit next to Helen on her lumpy-ass couch. She gets up to use the bathroom, and I continue watching the news.

A few minutes later, I hear a scream from the bathroom. I race in, water bottle in tow.

"H, are you okay?" I ask, taking a sip of the cold liquid.

"Ian," she said, clearly scared. "I'm pregnant."

Shocked, I spray water all over Helen's face. I apologize profusely before asking "Are you sure?"

"YES! I would never lie about this. That's why I needed you to take me to the pharmacy: to pick up pregnancy tests."

I sit down, dizzy from the bombshell Helen just dropped. "It's...um...how do I say this...John's...right?" I asked, hoping, praying that it was.

Helen burst into tears. "First you spit on me, then you accuse me of cheating!? Of course, it's John's baby! Can't you at least be happy for me? I've wanted a child for years. Unfortunately, John picked the absolute worst time ever to actually knock me up, infiltrating Scorpia and all."

I sit back, stunned. I'm too shocked to comfort, to console, even to laugh at Helen's attempt at a joke. I did not sign up for this. There's a reason I've never married: children scare the shit out of me. Hell, I'd rather infiltrate Scorpia than have a baby, and yet...

I hug Helen, finally finding my voice. "H, I love John, and I love you, and I'm so happy for you two." I manage to get out. I truly am happy for Helen and my brother. I know they've both wanted children for years.

Helen and I lock eyes. "What the hell are we going to do? What about John? What about MI6? What about Scorpia!?" She wailed.

"This is a clusterfuck," I said.

"Indeed, plain and simple," Helen said, before laying her mess of fair hair onto my lap. What a pair we are. On the floor of a shitty bathroom sits a traumatized MI6 spy with his hysterical sister-in-law sleeping with her head on his lap.


	2. A Brother's Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider and crew. They belong to Anthony Horowitz. The only thing mine is some of the plot and the OCs. Enjoy!

 

**August 24th, 1986**

I take the day off of work to stay with Helen. I feel bad that she is in such a complicated situation. We clean up her house, and I take her to the doctor.

Her OB/GYN is named Dr. Phoebe Collins. I researched her last night, using MI6's resources. Only the best for my brother's wife. When Helen is called into the room, I walked her in. She sits in the chair, looking tense. I feel bad for her. John should really be here.

Dr. Collins walks in. "Helen Rider?" She asks. Helen nods. "And you are…?" She asks, looking at me.

"Ian Rider," I reply.

"So you're the father? Perfect." Dr. Collins smiles at me.

"No, wait-" I begin.

"He's not-" Helen starts.

The doctor gives us a puzzled look. "Brother-in-law." I finally manage to spit out. Dr. Collins nods slowly, clearly confused as to why I, opposed to my brother, is there with Helen.

I'm about to improvise an explanation, but then the doctor drops a bombshell. "Helen, please take off your clothes and change into this hospital gown. I'll be right back." She leaves the hospital room. I walk over to the corner of the room, closing my eyes.

I love Helen, I really do, but seeing her naked? This is way, way above my pay grade. Not for the first time, I wished that I was the 'Agent Rider' infiltrating Scorpia whilst John was here with his wife and unborn child. That's not selfish, is it? I want John and Helen to be here, bonding over their baby. I know their marriage has been strained lately due to John's missions, and this would bring them back together. I guess in that sense, it's not selfish. Pregnancy just really skeeves me the hell out.

"Ian?" Helen whimpers. I instinctively turn around. There she is, completely shirtless. I freeze, unable to fully comprehend what I'm seeing. Her next comment brings me back down to Earth. "I'm going to throw up."

I quickly grab the nearest trash can and give it to Helen. I think I hate vomit even more than the idea of pushing a child out of your-

Before I can finish the thought, Helen is vomiting in the trash can. I really, truly feel bad for this woman. Her husband left her pregnant and all alone with her shitty brother-in-law who can't even push past his comfort zone to help her out. Realizing what an asshole I've been, I kneel behind her on the examination chair and hold back her long, curly hair. I close my eyes, tight, and try to drown out the retching sounds.

When she finishes, I tuck her hair behind her ears and get a napkin to wipe the chunky liquid off of her face. "Thanks, Ian." She says softly.

"H," I say, hugging her gently. I kiss the top of her head. She looks me in the eyes, and tears are rolling down my face. Me, the hardened spy, is crying. If Helen is surprised, she doesn't show it. I guess she has experience with this because John and I are one in the same. "I'm so sorry, H. I've been a terrible brother to you and John."

She strokes my hair. "Ian, it's okay. You didn't ask for any of this. A shitload of responsibility was just dropped on you like a ton of bricks. I know you have no experience with this sort of thing, and I won't blame you if you leave. It's not your child, and you've been so helpful already."

I shake my head. I could never leave Helen alone in this state. I couldn't put her through that. I couldn't put John through that. Before I can stop myself, I say "I'm all in, Helen. For you, and for John."

By this point, we are both bawling. The door handle turns, and Dr. Collins walks in, more confused than ever.

She walks into a strange scene: A petite shirtless woman with vomit in her hair. She is hugging her brother-in-law's head in her lap. Both adults are sitting on the muted green examination chair, which barely fits them. A few feet away, lies a trash can full of vomit. The doctor looks from me to Helen to the can full of vomit a few times, before saying "I'll give you two more time," and speeding out of the room.

Helen and I are hysterical. We've gone from crying over a super emotional family moment to cracking up over the strange scene and confused doctor. I get off the chair, grabbing more napkins to wipe our eyes and her hair.

After we clean ourselves up, I help Helen change into the hospital gown, ignoring my earlier hesitations.

"Thanks again, Ian, I know this isn't easy for you."

I nod my head, not trusting myself to speak. This isn't easy for me, and it may never be, but I have an obligation to help my family. Before he left for mission training, I promised John that I would take care of his wife. Now, in her time of need, I'm going to stay true to my promise to John: my older brother and my idol.

A few minutes later, Dr. Collins comes back, knocking this time. She laughs, apologizing for not knocking, and begins Helen's ultrasound. I walk over to the other side of the bed and hold Helen's left hand between my hands. She flashes me a quick, yet meaningful smile.

Dr. Collins smiles as she turns the monitor so we can see. It looks just like a few pulsating gray blobs, but that is my little niece or nephew. The thought is overwhelming. I look down at Helen. Never, have I see her so joyous, except at her and John's wedding.

"This is your baby, Helen. You are about 14 weeks pregnant and in your second trimester. You are due in early February." The doctor informed her. Dr. Collins printed out some pictures of the baby. They didn't look like much, but damn, this is Helen and John's child.

"Can you print out another copy of these for my husband? Helen asked, hopefully, "He's...um...away for work." Dr. Collins nods, and smiles again, as she goes to collect the other set of pictures. When she returns, Helen asks "When can we find out the sex of the baby?"

The doctor replies "It's too early to tell yet. If you come back when you are 5-6 months along, we should hopefully be able to find out. The technology is still new, so it's not 100% accurate, but we can try."

"Thank you," Helen said, happily. It was relieving to see Helen more put together, and above all, happy. I'm glad she can finally enjoy this child, it truly is a miracle.

After Helen changes, we leave the building. I look her in the eyes. "How the hell do we tell John?"

"Damn," I reply. "I have no idea."

Helen started shaking. "We need to get him out of Venice. I'm PREGNANT with his CHILD! I NEED TO SEE MY HUSBAND!" she yells.

Not knowing what else to do, I drive over to Liverpool Street.


	3. Liverpool Street

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider and crew. They belong to Anthony Horowitz. The only thing mine is some of the plot and the OCs. Enjoy!

**August 24th, 1986 (continued)**

I turn left onto Liverpool Street. I worry the entire trip about how Alan Blunt will react. Will he find a way for us to contact John? Will he force us to wait until he's home? Will he be pissed about poor timing? Will he even talk with Helen?

We walk into the Royal and General Bank. I show my badge to a security guard. However, he wouldn't let Helen through. Thinking fast, I leave Helen in the waiting room and go up to talk to Blunt. "I'll be right back for you, H, I just need Blunt to give his permission."

She nods in agreement, as I race to the elevator.

When I get to Blunt's office, I knock on the door, and he lets me in. "Agent Rider," he says, looking pissed.

"Mr. Blunt."

"Agent Rider, is there any reason you haven't been to work in two days?"

"Yes, actually, I-"

"NO!" Blunt explodes. I was taken aback by his sudden outburst of emotion. "Agent Rider. You work for the British Secret Service. If you would like to continue in your line of work, you will show up to your job. Also, what's this I hear about you bringing strange women to the bank?"

Days of pent-up anxiety rose up inside of me. I couldn't take Blunt's lecturing for another second. "Mr. Blunt," I said as steady as possible, "This woman is no stranger. She is Helen Rider, my sister-in-law, and Agent John Rider's wife, and she needs your help. I took off work for a day to help her with a few problems. Anyways, I need the three of us to have a conversation about John."

Blunt shooks his head. "No. I will not speak to a civilian about classified MI6 information. Also, Agent Rider, I will not tolerate such disrespect. I-"

At this point, I was fuming. I couldn't believe that Blunt wouldn't cooperate. "Mr. Blunt. Helen Rider is pregnant." I yell. "She is pregnant with John's child, and she needs to contact him." I pull out the ultrasound pictures as proof.

Blunt examines the images, before uttering a single word: "Fuck."

I was taken aback. I've never heard Blunt use that type of language.

He picked up his phone "Gabriels," he says, addressing the security guard, "Accompany Mrs. Rider up to my office."

Blunt switched his focus back to me. I've never seen him look so (for lack of a better word) frazzled. I understood, though. His top Agent, who he just sent off to infiltrate a criminal organization, is expecting a baby.

A few moments later, Helen, accompanied by Gabriels, appeared in Blunt's office. She looks, understandably, nervous. This is the man who has sent so many agents off to their death. One day, it'll be her husband. Another day, it'll be her brother-in-law. Even Blunt's lack of emotion can be downright intimidating. To Helen's credit, though, she was more confident than I would have been in that situation.

"Mr. Blunt? I'm Helen Rider, John's wife. Yesterday, I found out that I'm pregnant with his child, and I need to contact him."

_Damn_ , I thought,  _Helen, is demanding things from Blunt. That's ballsy._

Blunt nodded. I can't even imagine what's going through his head right now. At last, he spoke. "Helen. Unfortunately, it is impossible for you to contact Agent John Rider right now. We just received word that he is on his way to New York on an assignment. However, he checks in weekly, and we may be able to call him then." Blunt said, matter-of-factly.

"Are you sure you can't just pull him out?" Helen whispered. "I need to talk to him."

"Helen, John is away for the greater good. We have five and a half months, I'm sure we'll find time to tell him before it's born." Blunt replied. Helen looked shocked, and I can tell she was trying her best not to start bawling. She was doing a decent job at it, too.

"Mr. Blunt," I said, feeling protective anger building up again, "Can I just say, that's the worst thing you could say to a pregnant woman. Treat her with some fucking human decency. She is in a terrible situation, and she's incredibly stressed out about it. The least you could do for your top agent is tell him he's expecting a child."

I saw a flash of anger in Blunt's eyes. "Rider!" He yelled, "Don't you realize that this pregnancy puts stress on me too!? This is the future of the world we are talking about. John is with Scorpia trying to end them, and the entire mission is now in jeopardy because my 'top agent' doesn't know how to use a condom!?"

I looked at Helen, shocked by what Blunt said. He's always been a hardass but never mean. She was pissed, and I don't blame her. She walked around the desk so she was face-to-face with an angry Alan Blunt. She lifted her hand up and slapped him across the face. She hit him so hard, that the glasses on his face fell to the floor and shattered. This was a Helen I've never seen before. Her eyes narrowed, challenging Blunt to insult her husband and unborn child again. She uttered three words: "contact John now."

_Holy fucking shit Helen_ , I thought to myself,  _That was both the most badass and the stupidest thing I've ever seen you do._

I walked over to her. Her body language was strong and intense. Helen is petite: only 5'1 and 100 pounds(before she got pregnant anyway). However, I have never seen someone this menacing, and I've been a spy for over a decade. Putting myself between Helen and a fuming Alan Blunt, I put my hand on her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. "Helen, honey, stand down. Blunt can literally have you killed." I murmur, trying to comfort her.

However, "stand down" is apparently the second worst thing you can say to a pregnant woman, as I myself was rewarded with a smack in the head and a "don't tell me how to behave," from Helen.

Blunt and I exchanged glances, dumbfounded. "Contact him. Now." Helen demanded again. Blunt nodded, obviously scared that Helen would assault him again, and he called up Mr. Derek Smithers, the MI6 gadget master.

"Mr. Smithers," Blunt and I said when he walked in the door.

"Blunt," Smithers nodded. He turned to me and smiled, "Ian, old chap, how are you?"

"Fine, Derek, you?" I respond

"Jolly good," He replied. Turning to Helen, he asks "and who are you, MI6's newest recruit? We could use some more women on our team. They're so much easier to make gadgets for! Few men would wear a necklace or earrings, but-"

"Mr. Smithers," Blunt said through clenched teeth, "You supplied Agent John Rider with a calculator that he could use to send us information."

Smithers looked serious now. "Yes, sir. He can send coded messages using the numbers."

"Is there any way we can contact him back with the device?"

"Yes, sir. I have another, identical one that both receives his messages and can send him messages. Here you go." Smithers hands Blunt the calculator.

"Thank you, Smithers. Dismissed."

Blunt turns to Helen. "Mrs. Rider, you have 1 message to send to your husband. Tell it to Ian, and he will forward it to John because he is an expert in coding messages. Go to conference room 4. It's soundproof," We get up to leave. Blunt sighs and starts talking again before we are able to open the door. "This news stays in this room. A child could be used as blackmail, and I would hate if anyone found out who wasn't supposed to."

We leave Blunt's office before he can change his mind.


	4. Ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider and crew. They belong to Anthony Horowitz. The only thing mine is some of the plot and the OCs. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, I doing my best to work through Anthony Horowitz's confusing-ass timeline. His timeline is kind of a mess, and I apologize for any discrepancies.

**August 24th, 1986 (continued)**

Inside conference room 4, Helen told me her message.

 

_"John,_

_It's Helen. I miss you so much. I hope saving the world from Scorpia is worth all this sacrifice. It hasn't been easy without you, but Ian has been amazing. Speaking of sacrifice, I have some shocking news: I'm 14 weeks pregnant. Sorry for that bombshell, but undercover agent or not, you deserve to know that I'm having your child. Anyways, I love you so much John, please don't get yourself killed._

_Love, Helen_

_P.S. The baby is due in February, so please, try to be home by then."_

 

Helen nodded, signifying that she was finished. I quickly coded it, and added my own message:

 

_John,_

_Ian here. I just wanted to inform you that your wife is the most badass person I've ever met. This had best be the greatest pregnancy announcement ever because she had to bitch slap Alan Blunt to contact you. It was great, I wish you'd seen it. Keep being Golden Boy, and kick Scorpia's ass. I'm proud of you, man. Come home soon, Helen needs you._

_Love,_

_Ian Rider_

 

I hit the 'enter' button on the calculator, praying that John would get the messages.

Helen and I walked back into his office and handed Blunt his calculator. He and Helen didn't make eye contact. "I'll see you tomorrow for work, Agent Rider," Blunt said. I could hear the undertoned  _or else_  in the way he said that. I nodded, and Helen and I went to the car.

"Damn," I exclaimed, "H, that was the most badass thing I've ever witnessed. You bitch slapping Blunt was something many dream of, but few dare to do."

Helen laughed. "It felt good. He was being a cunt," Helen starts cracking up. "I guess he's 'Blunt the cunt.'"

We laughed the rest of the way home.

**September 28th, 1986**

About a month after Helen smacks the head of MI6 Special Operations, I am driving her back to the Royal and General. We both have been super busy lately. I've been on a mission in Argentina, and Helen has had many doctors appointments and has been working extra shifts to pay for a nursery. She's finally showing her 4 and ½ month belly. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed her while we were away until I saw the bump. I can't even imagine how John, her husband and baby daddy, must feel, being trapped with a group of criminals instead of with his pregnant wife. Speaking of John, Blunt has called us back to his office.

"Have a seat, Agent and Mrs. Rider." Blunt begins. "We are trying to get John out. He's had an incredibly successful month, and if he continues at this rate, we should have him home by Christmas. Scorpia is getting dangerous, and we have enough leads to make some damaging arrests. We plan to stage a fake kidnapping. Mrs. Rider, The two of you will have to live in an MI6 safe house for the foreseeable future, but at least you'll be safe and together."

"Thank you, Mr. Blunt," Helen replied. She looked incredibly relieved.

Blunt dismissed Helen but told me to stay. "Agent Rider," he says, "John wants out of Scorpia, out of MI6. This baby came at the worst possible time."

I nodded, not knowing what to say. I've never heard Blunt vent like that, and I was curious to see where this was going.

"John is my best agent. We need him for the safety of Britain. However, I don't think we'll convince him to go on any more missions after this." Blunt looked at me. "Ian, never get married."

"No, sir." I agree, studying in gray, emotionless face. In a twisted way, I pity Blunt. He's stressed because mere weeks into the biggest undercover mission of his career, his top agent discovers his wife is accidentally pregnant and wants out. I say none of this as I leave the room.

**October 5th, 1986**

A week later, Helen is almost 5 months pregnant. I'm eating lunch with her at her house when someone knocks on the door. Helen opens it. "Helen!" The figure exclaimed, hugging her.

"Ash!" She hugs him back.

_Ash_ , I quickly thought to myself before remembering who Helen was talking to. John's best friend and the best man at his wedding. I've never liked Ash. Something about him has always been off. Despite these qualms, I shook his hand when he came into the kitchen.

"I can't stay for very long, but Blunt wanted me to stop by quickly to update you guys." Ash began, "Next month, on November 11th is when we are staging the fake kidnapping. John should be back in England the next day. Blunt wants to speak with him and debrief him, and best-case scenario, you'll see him again on the 13th."

"Thank you, Ash," Helen said, tears in her eyes. "I really miss him."

"I know, and word on the street is he can't wait to get away from Julia and see you again." Ash said "Anyways, I have to get back to work, I'll see you later Helen. Bye, Ian." He leaves.

"Julia?" Helen asks.

"I don't even want to know." I sigh.

**October 28th, 1986**

Helen is away in Paris now. She's secretly meeting John. I know she misses him terribly, which is why I risked my job setting up the meeting.

**November 10th, 1986**

I get a phone call at around 3:30 in the morning.

"Hello?" I mumble, not fully awake.

"IAN, what if he dies? What if MI6 can't get him back?" The voice on the other line wailed.

"Who is this?" I ask, still groggy from being woken up so suddenly.

"It's Helen, you fool. Please, please come over. I think I'm having a panic attack!" I hear a retching noise on the other end.

"H, are you okay?" I ask, suddenly wide awake, "Where are you, honey?"

"Kneeling over my toilet, throwing up!" She cried, "Just, please, get down here."

I quickly make coffee and head over.

Helen is a mess when I get over there. She's been crying, probably for hours, and she hasn't slept in two days. Her hair is stuck to the side of her face with vomit. The entire house reeks.

"H, what the hell happened here?"

"I think I'm having a panic attack," she admits, "The rescue mission in today, what if something goes wrong?"

"We just have to hope it doesn't," I say, "There's nothing we can do either way."

She nods, accepting this. It was the least comforting thing that anyone has ever said, but fortunately, it worked for Helen. "Help me take a bath?" She asks hopefully. I nod, praying her panic attack is over.

Luckily, the bathroom isn't covered in vomit when we walk in. I turned on the bath and added lots of soap bubbles, so I don't have to see any more of Helen's naked body. I love and respect her, but it just feels wrong to be staring at my brother's naked wife.

I look away as I help her undress. She looks frail. "H, when is the last time you ate something?"

"I don't know, a few days ago? I've just been so stressed out lately that I haven't had time to eat."

I sigh. I look in the kitchen to make her some dinner, but the cupboards are bare. "H, this is terrible for the baby, you need to eat. You take a bath, I'm going out to get food."

Helen nodded and stepped into the bathtub.

"Don't drown!" I yell, running out the door.

I get us both water and bagel sandwiches at a local fast-food joint and return to the house. Helen was wearing a bathrobe and sitting at the kitchen table. We ate in silence, both thinking about John and the rescue mission tomorrow.

When we finished eating, I sat down with Helen on the couch. Since Blunt gave me the entire week off, I decided to spend the night here with Helen, to make sure she's okay. Within seconds, Helen is asleep, with her head on my lap. She looked strangely beautiful. While Helen has always been pretty, pregnancy really agreed with her, and the way the moonlight shone through the window and reflected off her face, she was absolutely stunning. God. I wish John could see her now.

I was woken up around 7a.m., by a knock at the door. Exhausted, I got up slowly. Helen was still asleep, so I answered it. It was Ash, the rat bastard. I would never tell John or Helen, but something about Ash really makes me hate him.

"Ian, you look terrible, mate." I cringed at the word "mate."

"Ah, yeah," I said casually, trying not to show my disdain "Helen was freaking out last night about John, and we barely slept."

"Well, before I leave for Mdina for the "kidnapping," the prick actually used finger quotes, "I brought over some breakfast, hoping to calm your nerves."

I nodded, about to ask him to leave, since Helen is asleep, except she chose the worst second to wake up.

"Ash," She mumbled, "come in." Ash handed me the breakfast and bent over to hug Helen.

"H," I said, "Ash brought breakfast before he leaves to get John."

Helen smiled. "I can't believe we finally get to see him again. However, I'm sure the next two days. will be the longest of my life."

Ash and I laughed, and I silently agreed. It's going to be a long two days.


	5. 58 hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider and crew. They belong to Anthony Horowitz. The only thing mine is some of the plot and the OCs. Enjoy!

**November 10th, 1986 (Continued)**

**8a.m. (58 hours until John's return)**

Ash told us that John would be back home on November 12th, at 6 p.m. 58 hours and counting. He would get on a private plane from Mdina to London, and arrive at Royal and General to speak with Blunt for a few hours. Blunt will call when John arrives. John and Blunt's talk was not a conversation I would wish on my worst enemy.

Ash left. Helen went back to bed, but I couldn't sleep. I was so stressed about John's mission. For better or for worse, Blunt would contact us tomorrow letting us know John's status.

**1p.m. (53 hours until John's return)**

Helen just woke up. She is looking closer and closer to normal the more she sleeps. Meanwhile, I had stress-cleaned the entire house and bought food to stock their cupboards. She hugged me, before recoiling. "Ian, you smell like dirt and vomit, when was the last time you showered?" I sigh and go to take a shower. The hot water feels amazing on my exhausted body. When I get out, Helen is making lunch. I change into some of the clothes that I've left here over the past few months.

**5p.m. (49 hours until John's return)**

"I'm bored," Helen announces, "We've just been sitting around all day, and I'm really stressed about John because I have nothing else to do."

"Okay," I say, getting up from the couch, "what do you want to do?"

"Well I want to get ice cream and cry about my husband, but that's probably not the best idea. We should get out and do something."

Suddenly I have an idea. "Ice cream sounds great, but let's do some sightseeing first."

**6p.m. (48 hours until John's return)**

Helen and I finish up dinner and drive over to Hyde Park.

"Hyde Park?" Helen asks, clearly confused.

I smile. "Mum used to bring John and I here whenever we felt anxious," I say, fondly remembering my childhood, "It's super therapeutic, walking around, and it's so beautiful."

Helen tensed up, at the mention of John.

"We would play football here for hours," I say, pointing to an open field, "It was here John decided to be a professional footballer, and here," I say, gesturing to a tree, "where John hit his head and decided not to be a professional footballer."

Helen laughed, "Take a picture of me with head injury tree." God, it felt good to hear her laugh again.

I pull out my camera and snap a picture of Helen pointing to her head and the tree.

We walk around Hyde Park for hours, as I point out landmarks of John and I's childhood. I haven't felt this carefree in years.

**November 11th, 1986**

**6a.m. (36 hours until John's return)**

I woke up to Helen screaming. "H, what the hell?"

"A bird just landed on my stomach and woke me up!" She exclaimed.

I focused my eyes. We are on a bench in Hyde Park. We sat down last night and must have fallen asleep. I check my watch, "It's 6, we must have slept for like 7 hours."

Helen smiled. It was the calmest, easiest sleep we'd had in months.

However, the moment didn't last long. We both remembered John at the same time. "Ian," Helen exclaimed, "John could be in England now. We have to get home in case Blunt calls." We get off the bench and run to my car. Well, Helen runs, as fast as someone who is 6 months pregnant can, and I lightly jogged to keep pace.

**7a.m. (35 hours until John's return)**

We arrive back at Helen's, but there were no missed calls.

"John should have arrived in England hours ago," Helen said, clearly worried.

"Maybe he's sleeping?" I suggested, hopefully, but my brain kept going to the worst case scenario.

"He would have at least called."

**10a.m. (33 hours until John's return)**

We haven't heard anything from MI6 yet. Helen and I are getting anxious. "Maybe we should call?" She suggests. I shoot this down because the phone lines could be tapped.

"If we don't hear anything in four hours, I'll drive over to Royal and General," I promised.

**1p.m. (30 hours until John's return)**

Finally, we get a quick and barely informative message from Blunt.

It arrives looking like mail. However, the mailman is no normal person. Rather, it's Gabriels, Blunt's guard. He hands me an envelope before quickly leaving the premises.

On the front of the envelope reads _Top Secret. For the eyes of Agent Ian Rider and Mrs. Helen Rider only. Please burn this letter and envelope after reading._

I show it to Helen, and we walk into the kitchen to read it.

Inside, it reads:

_Agent Ian Rider and Mrs. Helen Rider,_

_There has been a delay with Agent John Rider's flight. By the time you read this, his plane should be about an hour away. Do not come to Royal and General. Instead, pack your things and report to the following address: 432 Oakwood Avenue, London, England. It is John and Helen's new home, an MI6 safe house. Don't take a lot, as it is already furnished. Bring only clothes and things for the baby. Agent John Rider will meet you at your new home at 6p.m. tomorrow, as scheduled. Be safe._

_Alan Blunt,_

_Head of MI6 Special Operations_

Helen and I read the message again, before burning it and flushing the ashes down the toilet.

We began packing her, John's, and the baby's few possessions into boxes, and we drove to the safe house.

**5p.m. (25 hours until John's return)**

Helen and I unpack the final items in her new home. It's in West London, nicely sized, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Perfect for a family and their new baby.

**7p.m. (23 hours until John's return)**

"Do you think he's okay? I wonder what exactly 'delayed' his flight?" Helen asked me over dinner.

"I have no idea, H," I replied honestly, "Maybe the mission went south? We know he's alive, though, Blunt would tell us if he died."

"What could have gone wrong? Ash said it was simple. He wouldn't lie. Ash-"

"Helen," I said forcefully, for once using her full name, "Never, ever, trust someone who lies for a living. You can't trust anyone in John, Ash, and I's world. Hell, you can't even fully trust John and me. There is so much we aren't allowed to say. You can't be so naϊve and trust everything that a spy tells you."

Helen starts to cry, her head in her hands. I instantly feel like a piece of shit. I reach over to hug her. "H, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I just don't want you to get hurt."

She nods. "I know," she sniffles, "You're just trying to protect me. I just can't help but get attached."

I hug her again, feeling a little better that she understands. It must be so tough being Helen. The three people closest to her are spies living double-lives. No one can be completely honest with her. This baby must be such a relief for her. It would be someone to give her company. It would be someone who isn't forced to keep secrets from her, someone who wouldn't be a spy. It's no wonder she's so excited for this baby, despite the crazy circumstances.

I sigh. "I'm sorry," I said, "Truly."

"I know, Ian."

"I love you, H."

"Me too."

**November 12th, 1986**

**10a.m. (8 hours until John's return)**

Helen and I barely slept the night before. She was in her new bed, and I slept on a chair in her room to keep her company. I know that she will grow more and more anxious with each passing hour, so I distract her with questions about the baby.

"So, do you plan on finding out the sex of the baby?"

"Yes, but I want to wait for John to come with me." I nod because that makes sense.

"Do want a girl or boy?"

She thought for a second. "A girl would be nice, because I'm surrounded by men, but I think a boy would be easy since I spend so much time around them. I guess I haven't really thought about it."

"Yeah, having a little girl around would be nice. I bet John would love a son, though, I can just see him teaching his son things like sports and maths, and being so proud of him when he does well." I muse.

Helen laughs. It's a comforting noise on a stressful day.

**6p.m. (0 hours until John's return)**

A knock at the door. As much as I want to sprint up and see my brother, I just stay seated so John can see his pregnant wife. I turn off the tv.

Helen opens the door. "John!" She exclaims.

"Helen," says the voice on the other side of the door, "I'd infiltrate a criminal organization every day if it meant I could see you at the end of the day."

They kiss. I'm not entirely sure how that works, because there's like an 11-inch height difference between the two of them.


	6. The Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider and crew. They belong to Anthony Horowitz. The only thing mine is some of the plot and the OCs. Enjoy!

**November 12th, 1986 (Continued)**

They stood in the doorway for another moment, just greeting each other.

When they walked into the living room, arm in arm, they were happier than I've ever seen them. I stood up to hug John.

"Bro, thanks so much for staying with Helen these past few months, you've been amazing," John whispered in my ear.

"Any time, man," I promised.

John turned his attention to Helen, who is sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "God, Helen, you look amazing. You're what, 6 months along now?" She nodded, and he continued "I'm so sorry I've missed it. If I'd have known, I never would've—-" that's all he could get out before he started ugly crying.

"Shhh, shhh, John, it's okay. I don't blame you. And anyway, you're here now, so that's what counts." Helen said, trying to comfort him.

John sniffled. "I know, it's just, that's my kid in there," he gestures at Helen's baby bump, "It feels wrong to leave you all alone."

"You were out doing what you believed in," Helen said, "And I wasn't alone, I had Ian."

"Thanks again, Ian, for helping my wife when I was unable. I know it can't have been easy"

"It's no problem," I smile, "It's been wild, but we had fun," I respond, and Helen laughs.

"I don't think I want to know," John considers, "Actually, I do, you two have to tell me everything!" He laughs, sitting between Helen and me on the couch.

We talk for about an hour, telling him the crazy times we had, and showing him the picture of Helen in Hyde Park, and the sonograms.

"When are these from?"

"August," Helen tells her husband, "But I've scheduled an appointment next week to take more pictures and tell us the sex of the baby." John smiles and kisses Helen again.

"Do you guys, um, want me to leave?" I ask awkwardly, "I'm sure you want some...some alone time."

Helen laughs, and John flicks my head. "Later, Little Brother, I want to talk to you first." He eyes up Helen. "It's work stuff," he tells her, "I need to talk to Ian alone."

She sighs and gets up, clearly used to this. "I'm going to take a bath."

"Try not to throw up!" I tease, and she laughs the whole way into the bathroom.

I turn and face John. His smiling façade is gone, replaced by a serious look.

"How was Mdina?" I am dying to know.

"Mdina was a clusterfuck." He sighs.

"Really, what the hell happened?"

"Four of our agents were killed by my partner, who also stuck a knife in Ash. Now, Ash is in the hospital in critical condition."

"Damn," I said, at a loss for words, "How did everything go so wrong?"

"It was Ash's fault," John admitted, "They were five minutes behind schedule. Everything just, it just went so horribly wrong." My brother sighs, putting his head into his hands. "Four agents died because of me, and now my best mate might, too. All because of this baby. Bloody hell. This all really happened at the worst time." He looks at me. His eyes are red, he was crying. Before tonight, I've never seen John shed a single tear, and now, he's already cried twice. He is a mess. "I only came back for Helen. I knew she was struggling, and I couldn't just stand by and watch from Venice or wherever. Am I even ready to be a father? I don't think I am," He sighs again, "Ian, my heart is in two different places right now. One is here, with Helen and my kid, but one is over in Venice. I love my job. I hate to say it, but choosing between MI6 and my wife and baby was the hardest decision of my life."

"Come on," I said, trying to make light of his difficult situation, "Helen's so much prettier than Blunt, it could not have been that hard of a choice." This, however, didn't work. John was bawling at this point, and it was really scaring me.

"Ian," he said through his tears, "I don't know what to do."

I was shocked he'd asked me for advice. He's always been the calm and stable one. "John, the way I see it, you have two choices. One, you go back to MI6, back to infiltrating Scorpia. You have Blunt stage an escape for you, and you go be a British hero. Two, you stay here, with Helen and your child. You help her out and take some time off of work, and you be a hero to your wife," I took a steadying breath, "You're right. The two things could not have happened at a worse time. I don't know what the hell I would do in your situation."

"I'm a mess, Ian." John sighs, repeating my thoughts.

I nod. "I really do love Helen," he tells me.

I nod again. "You have to talk to her, John. It's unfair to keep her in the dark. Also, at the very least, go to this doctor's appointment next week, and find out if you are having a son or a daughter. Helen's been wanting to find out for months, but she's been waiting for you."

"That's fair," He replied.

"John, you really need to talk to her," I say again so he gets my point. I've spent the last 6 months with Helen, and I really don't want to see him hurt her, "Your decision affects her too...and your baby."

"I still can't believe I am going to be a father."

"It's fucking insane," I agree.

"I'll talk to her tomorrow, I promise. I'm too tense tonight, and I really just need to let off some steam."

"Ew," I reply. "I'm leaving. I really don't want to be here during that."

"And I really don't want you here." John agrees.

We say goodbye and I leave quickly before I hear the bed start to creak.

**November 13th, 1986**

I sleep in later than I have in days, and it feels amazing.

Later that day, John, Helen, and I go out for dinner.

"Late night?" I greet John, jokingly. He flips me off.

"When do you go back to work?" He asked me.

"Tomorrow, it'll feel good getting out into the field again," I say, and he nods in agreement.

"Have you um...talked to  _Blunt_  about your, um,  _position_? I ask John, clearly referring to Helen.

"Not yet," he says, casting me a look that says  _shut the hell up_.

"Will you be at the Bank tomorrow?" I ask, actually referring to MI6 this time.

"Yeah, I need to talk to Blunt about extra security measures, what with Scorpia on high alert."

**November 21st, 1986**

After work, John pulls me aside "Ian, brother, let's get a drink. I want to talk to you."

We drive over to a local pub and order beers.

"So," He said, taking a sip of his drink, "Helen's doctors' appointment is tomorrow. We're finding out the sex of the baby."

"That's good news," I say, trying to be encouraging. I know how close John is to packing up and leaving for Scorpia.

"Yeah, Helen is really excited." John sighs, unable to look at me.

"And you?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer.

"I really, don't know, man. I still feel like I have one foot out the door. I just wish this decision was easier. I feel like I'm struggling alone here, you're the only one I can talk to about this."

"You still haven't spoken to Helen about your conflict, have you?" I sigh. I have no idea what I'd do in John's situation, but I feel he should at least communicate with the person it affects most.

John looks me in the eyes. He looks weary. "I can't, Ian. I can't bring myself to tell her I'm thinking about leaving her and our child."

"What does Blunt think about all this?"

"He hasn't said anything directly, but he's pissed. The mission was huge. It took months of planning, and tons of money, and it should have been a defining moment in his career, but now, it's all wrong, and it's my fault," He looks down, "What am I even doing, Ian? I can't even make a simple choice."

"It's not a simple choice." I say, trying to comfort him, "You love your wife, and you love your country."

"Yeah," He replies, nodding his head, "But Helen would never see it that way."

That made sense to me. I would probably be pissed if I was pregnant and my husband leaves again because he loves his country more than me. I've more or less lived with Helen for the past few months, and I know it will destroy her if he leaves. However, being a spy, I understand John's point of view. Our parents taught us to love England, and we both love her enough to risk our lives defending her. God. When did being a spy become so fucking complicated?

**November 22nd, 1986**

The phone rings. I put down my book and go to pick it up.

"Ian," my brother says excitedly, "It's a boy, Helen and I are having a son!"

"Congratulations, John! I'm happy for you, man."

"I saw him on the ultrasound, just moving around in there. He's real. He's really, truly alive, and I can't wait to meet him."

"So, you're staying?"

"I'm all in," he replies, "Now that I've seen him, all I want to do is stay."

I smile. This is the best news I could have asked for.


	7. I've Always Wanted It This Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider and crew. They belong to Anthony Horowitz. The only thing mine is some of the plot and the OCs. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, I tried my best with the medical stuff in this chapter, but it may not be perfect. Comment with any edits.

**December 21st, 1986**

I was away on another mission, this time in Russia. It's the Cold War, and no one entirely trusts them, so I was out there, gathering intelligence.

Blunt is full of praise. Well, full of praise for Blunt, anyway.

"Thank you, Agent Rider," he says when I had him the information and my mission report, "You have done a very competent job recently."

"Thank you," I say, taking his compliment for what it was.

"Anyways, Agent Rider, I need your advice."

Blunt? Needing my help? This should be interesting. "What's up?" I ask my boss.

"I'm losing him. John. At first, I thought there'd be a chance of him coming back, but the more time he spends with his family, the more he wants out."

"Out of Scorpia?" I want to know.

"Out of the field. He says that he'd be happy for a desk job, but because he is about to be a father, he wants out of the field, for good."

I am shocked by this. John loves his job, loves England. I never thought he'd quit MI6. "He was really thinking about coming back to his mission. He felt terrible about wasting so much time and money, and so many lives," I admit, "But in the end, he chose his family."

"This is why spies should never marry. They get attached." Blunt sighs.

"Um, aren't you married, boss?" I ask, eyeing his wedding ring.

Blunt groaned. "Dismissed, Agent Rider."

**January 3rd, 1987**

The holidays brought happier times. Helen and John are better now, closer than they've ever been. Helen is just over a month away from her due date, and John is so excited. Any doubts he had about becoming a father were gone with 1986. It's a new year, a better year. 1987 would be a year full of hope and new beginnings. A year of baby boys and new parents. A year of desk jobs, and love, and young families. Helen is so joyous to be around John, and he is more in love than ever. It's relieving to see them together and happy again, after months of stress and agony.

John and I meet for a drink, to celebrate the new year.

"How's Ash doing?" I ask, not because I care, just because, well, I don't know why I ask. I just do.

"He's still in the hospital recovering. He's missing most of his stomach. He won't eat normally anymore, but he'll live." I nod. I don't like Ash, but it would hurt John and Helen if he died.

"How about Helen?" I ask, this time about someone I care about, "I haven't seen her in ages."

John cracked a smile. "She's doing great. She's getting so big, and she's in her third trimester now. We are both so excited to meet Alex."

"Alex?"

"Oh yeah, that's what we're naming him, Alexander."

"It's a great name," I say, truly meaning it. "Ya know, John, Blunt is pretty pissed at you for wanting a desk job. Maybe you should name your son Alan instead to make up for it." I laugh.

John punched me in the arm, laughing. It feels so good to be laughing with John again over stupid things. I'm glad things aren't so serious anymore.

**January 24th, 1987**

Helen is about four weeks away from her due date. John felt bad that his wife has few friends, due to his need for secrecy, so he recruits me to help him throw her an impromptu baby shower.

"John," I say, "What do you even do at a baby shower? Neither of us has ever been."

"I've seen them on TV," he says, shrugging his shoulders as if he's an expert, "There are decorations, blue for a boy and pink for a girl, cake, and presents."

"Wow, John, that was so detailed, it's like I'm there," I say sarcastically.

"Yeah, well," my brother laughs, "We can try."

We drive around for the day, buying anything blue that we can find, and decorating my house with it. We get blue foods only because that's what John said. We buy a cake that says "Congratulations, Helen and Alex," and blue flowers called bluebells and cornflowers.

"Shit," John says, "We forgot to get presents."

"It's okay, bro," I assure him, "I bought her a baby gift a few weeks ago. I saw it at the store, and it's perfect."

He nods, accepting this. Helen is on her way to my house.

About 30 minutes later, she arrives. "Happy Baby Shower, H!" I announce. Helen laughs. A lot.

"What?" John asks, clearly offended that she is laughing, "We threw you a baby shower."

"That was very sweet of you, honey, but I'm laughing at Ian, not your party. His hands are completely blue!" I look down. She's right. "Ian, you look like a bloody smurf."

"I was cooking!" I said, trying to defend myself without laughing.

"What exactly were you making that required that required that much blue?" She asks, suspicious.

"Blue pasta," I say, nonchalant, "with blue cheese."

Helen wanders into my kitchen, still laughing. "You guys got only blue foods because I'm having a boy? Oh my God, there's blueberries and cake with blue icing. This is so sweet."

She tries to hug John and I both at the same time, but because of her 8-month baby bump, it's super awkward.

Before we cut the cake, I take a picture of John and Helen next to it. "So," I muse, "Is there a baby shower song, like the happy birthday song?"

"I don't think so," Helen laughs.

"Then there should be. It should be like:

_"Happy baby shower to you_

_You're eating for two_

_Everything in this room_

_Is incredibly blue."_

Helen hugged me again, laughing. "Ian, you're songwriting talents were wasted upon when you became a spy."

"Oh, that reminds me!" I exclaim, "I got you a gift." I leave the kitchen, and come back with a gift bag, blue of course.

"Ian, you really didn't have to." Helen gushed.

"I did, H. I saw this at the store, and I really had to."

She opens up the gift bag, pulling out a black onesie. "Oh my god, Ian, this really is perfect." At this point, she is laughing so hard she is crying.

"What is it, Helen?" John asked curiously. She turns the onesie around. It is black, with a white bow tie printed on. In the middle, are the words  _Baby James Bond_. "You've always had a twisted sense of humor," he laughs, "and this is great, Ian."

**February 12th, 1987**

**5:00p.m.**

I am at work, reading a report when the phone in my office rings.

"Ian, I need you to get down here now," Helen say, sounding distressed, "I think I'm going into labor."

_Oh, hell no._

"Where is John?" I ask, nervously. _I do not want to be in that room when Helen gives birth. John had better get his ass home._

"He's in Liverpool. Blunt needed him to deliver some information or something? I don't know. He's supposed to spend the night, and come back home early tomorrow."  _Fucking what? Liverpool is four hours away. I cannot do this. John needs to haul his information-delivering ass home now._

"I thought you weren't due until next week?" I say, desperately hoping that this is some twisted fucking joke.

"Babies can come early, it's just an estimation. Please, please come over." She pleaded.

 _Fucking John! Fucking Blunt! Fucking Liverpool! I absolutely cannot believe this._  "I'll be right over," I growl. _I am going to kill Alan Blunt_ , I think as I hang up the phone.

I sprint into Blunt's office.  _I sure as hell don't want to be there when the baby is coming out of Helen, but I would never make her go through that shit alone._

"Mr. Blunt, I have to go," I say quickly.

"Agent Rider. It's only 5 o'clock. I seem to recall that you are paid to work until 7 o'clock."

"I seem to recall that Helen Rider just phoned me, freaking out because her husband is Liverpool, sent there by you, might I add, and she is about to give birth." I shoot back.

Blunt's face goes pale. "So," I growl, "I have to leave early because of you. Now, I'm going to leave, and you're going to call John, and tell him to get his ass back to London." He nods, clearly in shock, as I race to my car.

**5:30p.m.**

I arrive at Helen's house in record time. I probably broke a hundred traffic rules, but I don't care. "Blunt just called. He said John would be home in five hours."

I nod.  _Thank god. I can't go through this without John._  "Excuse me," I say, ducking into the bathroom. I threw up.  _However, if the baby starts coming out before then, I'm screwed. John had best hustle._

I sit on the bathroom floor, defeated.  _I feel dizzy. My face is sweating. My heart is racing. I can't breathe. I feel like I'm going to die._

"Ian, oh my god!" Helen exclaims, "You're having a panic attack!"  _I can't move. I can't talk. I'm shaking._  She fills a glass with water and throws it in my face.  _Cold, wet, terror,_  is all I can focus on. My body continues shaking.

She gets a pillow, and lays my head down, in the middle of her bathroom. She lays down next to me, and holds both of my hands, looking me in the eyes. "Ian. It's okay. You'll be okay. Focus on me, Ian. It's Helen. Ian, it's H. Focus on me. You'll be okay. You'll be okay. You'll be okay."  _I'll be okay._  "You'll be okay. You'll be okay." _I'll be okay._  "You'll be okay."

"I'll be okay," I mumble, "I'll be okay, I'll be okay."

"Ian, thank god." She sighs with relief.

I start to sit up, weary. I lay my back against the wall because I need the support. Helen sits next to me. She hugs me. I throw up again, this time on poor Helen's arm.

"Oh, Jesus," Helen mumbles. To me, she says "It's okay, Ian, you'll be okay." She washes the vomit off of her arm in the bathtub.

"I'm sorry, H," I say a couple minutes later when I can speak.

"Ian, don't worry, it wasn't your fault." I nod, happy that I was feeling better.

"Oh god!" Helen exclaims, her face distorted in pain. She is holding onto the sink for support.

"H! What is wrong?" I ask, jumping to my feet.  _Dizzy. Bad idea._  I sit back down, in a pool of my own vomit.

"Another contraction," she sighs, clearly hurting. "I want to go to the hospital, Ian."

I nod, getting up slowly this time. "H, I will totally take you to the hospital, but I really need a shower," Vomit drips off my calves, "and a change of clothes." She laughs and hands me a towel.

"Here, honey, take a shower. I'll clean this up, and you can borrow some of John's clothes."

"Thank you, H, you really are the best."

**6:45p.m.**

It's almost 7 when the vomiting clusterfuck is over. I feel a lot better, but Helen definitely doesn't. Her contractions are happening more and more frequently, and they are getting increasingly more painful for her.

"H, you just have to hang on for like 4 more hours. John will be here soon. You can do this," I encourage, as we get into the car. We left John a note, telling him where we would be-St. Dominic's Hospital.

Blunt had called us a few hours before, telling us to go there, so that no one would ask unnecessary questions, and no one would spread the news that John Rider was out of MI6 custody, and had a son. He said MI6 would foot the bill, so that was good enough for Helen and me.

**7:15p.m.**

We get to the hospital fast. I, again, didn't bother with silly things, like speed limits.  _So long as we were wearing our seatbelts, we'll be fine._  I repeated the seatbelt mantra over and over again until I felt calm. I've always had a thing for seatbelts.

Helen is admitted and taken to a room with a hospital bed for her, and a small pull-out couch for John, if he ever gets here. She changes into a green hospital gown, which makes me remember her first ultrasound appointment.

"Ahh, Mrs. Rider? Hello, I'm Dr. Rachel Evanson. Is this your husband?" She asks, gesturing to me.

"I'm just Ian, her brother-in-law," I say, "John, her husband, should hopefully be here by 11."

"Okay," the doctor considered, "If she goes into labor before her husband gets in, you'll have to be in the birthing room with Helen."

I freeze up.  _No. No, No. This is not happening. I'm sweating again. I can't breathe again. I'm panicking again._

"What's wrong? Is he okay?" Dr. Evanson asks Helen.

"No. He's having another panic attack. Here, sit him against the wall, and get me a trash can!" Helen exclaims. Dr. Evanson cooperates. Helen sits next to me. She unbuttons my borrowed shirt, throwing it aside, and positions the trash can under my chin.  _Cold._  She looks me in the eyes and holds both of my hands. "Ian, it's H, it's Helen. You'll be okay. You'll be okay. You'll be okay. Okay, Ian? You'll be okay."

Helen turns away, having another contraction. This one is more painful than her last. Her hands squeeze mine tightly as her face distorts with pain. _Helen. Hurt._  "Ian," she says breathlessly, "You'll be okay. You'll be okay. You'll be okay."  _I'll be okay._  "Ian! Look me in the eyes. You'll be okay. You'll be okay." I _'ll be okay. I'll be okay._

"I'll be okay," I manage, my voice hoarse, "I'll be okay." Helen sighs, relieved. I threw up again, this time in the trash can. "Good god," I say, slowly, "Whenever we're at the doctor's, one of us always throws up."

Helen laughs with relief.

"Don't worry, H," I continue, "Throwing up is a telltale sign of a good party."

This gets a laugh from both Helen and the doctor.

"Ian, are you alright?" Dr. Evanson is putting a cold cloth on my forehead.

"Almost. Childbirth...scares...me." I pant.

"This happened earlier too," Helen informs her.

"I'll get him some water, and hopefully he'll be alright. We just have to hope your husband get here in time. Otherwise...is there anyone else I can call for you?"

"No," Helen says quietly, staring at her shoes.

"I'll be fine. I'm okay. I'll go in there with her," I say, rising to the occasion.  _Helen can't do this alone. You're her only support system, Ian, you have to stay strong until John arrives._

**8:00p.m.**

Helen gets back on the hospital bed. I'm holding her left hand between my two hands. Dr. Evanson checks to see how many centimeters dilated she is.

I have absolutely no idea what that means, nor do I want to find out. I turn around, looking Helen in the eyes, so I don't have to see what's happening at the other end of the hospital bed.

"It's okay, H, you can do this."

"Ian, don't be so dramatic, it's just an examination, I'm not giving birth yet."

"What I mean, is, you can hold him inside of you until John comes. Just 3 more hours, H."

The doctor stands up with an update: "You're 4 centimeters dilated, Helen." Whatever that means.

**9:00p.m.**

An hour later, things are progressing fast. Helen had a shot in her back to ease the pain, called an epidural. I held her hand but closed my eyes tight while that procedure was performed. Luckily, she says that the contractions are less painful and that the shot really worked. Helen is up to 6 centimeters dilated.

"How many centimeters are there?" I ask, "Before the baby comes out?"

Helen laughed at my cluelessness. "10. After that, I'm really in labor, and I start pushing the baby out."

I nod, trying not to throw up again.

**11:30p.m.**

It's 11:30.  _John should have been here by now. My hand hurts from Helen squeezing it from the contraction pain._  She's now up to 9 centimeters, and the contractions are incredibly close together, less than 3 minutes apart.

**February 13th, 1987**

**12:30p.m.**

John definitely should be here. Helen is almost ready, and my worst fears are confirmed when Dr. Evanson says: "Okay, she's 10 centimeters dilated. We have to take her into a delivery room so she can start to push." A nurse hands me a pair of scrubs, telling me to put them on. I hesitate until Helen snaps me out of it.

"Ian, please. I know this is horribly uncomfortable for you, but you've been great so far, and I really need someone in there with me."  _For Helen_ , I thought,  _For John. Come on Ian, you can do this, man._

I put on the scrubs, breaking way the hell out of my comfort zone. I squeeze my eyes shut as I follow Helen and the hospital staff towards the delivery room.

I crash into someone. "Bloody hell!" I exclaim, opening my eyes.  _John. Oh, thank god, John is here._  "John! Thank god, you're here! I was so scared I'd have to see Helen give birth."

John looks frazzled but hugs me anyway. "The baby isn't born yet?"

"No, but really soon. They're in there," I point to the delivery room, "John, where were you? I was-" He runs to the delivery room.

I walk back into the room I was just in, and thankfully passed out on the pull-out couch.

**7:30a.m.**

The next morning, I woke up next to John, still in my scrubs. I get off of the couch to stretch my legs.

"Ian, come here. Come meet Alex." Helen whispered.

"He's out of you now?" I ask groggily.

"Yes," she laughed, "Now come meet him."

I walk over to the hospital bed. In Helen's arms is a small creature in a blue blanket. Upon closer investigation, it's an adorable baby boy with a full head of fair hair. His eyes are closed because he is asleep. His nose makes his look an awful lot like John. He's actually pretty cute.

"Ian, meet your nephew, Alexander John Rider."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Baby Alex is finally born! Also, I think of the two bros, Ian is the caring one with lots of energy, and John is super intense and kind of cold and distant. However, once John dies, Ian gets cold and distant, and he raises Alex that way.
> 
>  
> 
> Longest chapter yet! Leave a comment please!


	8. Albert Bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider and crew. They belong to Anthony Horowitz. The only thing mine is some of the plot and the OCs. Enjoy.

**February 13th, 1987 (Continued)**

"Wow, H, he's amazing, congratulations," He really is. Alex is adorable, "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted, Ian, I got about two hours of sleep. Alex was born around at 2:35 last night."

"It figures that John Rider's son would be born on a Friday the 13th," I joke. Helen flashes me a tired smile. I look over at John. "Is he okay? It looks like he passed out after a few too many drinks."

"He's fine. Exhausted, probably. He said traffic was horrible getting here. He made it just in time to see me in the delivery room."

"Yeah, he ran right into me," I laugh.

John stirs. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, honey, go back to bed. I was just showing Ian the baby."

"He's great, right?" John sits up, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"I mean, he looks just like you, the poor kid," I tease my brother.

John just chuckles softly, too tired to make a comeback. He gets up slowly and walks over to me, giving me a 'bro-hug.' "Congrats, man. He's great." I tell my brother.

"Thanks, Ian, so much for helping us out throughout Helen's pregnancy. I heard what happened yesterday, what with the panic attacks and all, but you were still willing to help out, Thank you, little brother."

"It's no problem," I say, even though it kind of was.

"No," John says. A single tear runs down his left cheek, "You were there for Helen and Alex when I couldn't be, I will be forever grateful to you."

"John, really-" I say, getting a little choked up myself.

"Ian, when the time comes, we want you to be Alex's godfather," Helen tells me, smiling.

By now, I'm fully crying. "How can your son, John, be a Child of God, when his father has the Luck of the Devil?"

At this point, John and I are choking. The laughing so hard we can't breathe mixed with the bawling combination isn't a good one.

"What?" Helen asks, clearly confused, "Luck of the Devil?"

John and I shut up quickly, not wanting to have to explain that one to his wife.

"It's, um, it's a joke," I say, stumbling over my words, "From when John and I were kids."

John shoots me a glance, saying That works, and Helen nods, accepting this half-assed explanation. There's no way in hell that John and I want to get into our jobs and into what situations that John's Luck of the Devil saved his ass.

I decide to change the subject. "Really, guys, it's an honor. I'd love to be Alex's godfather." I reach over to hug Helen. Alex's eyelids flutter open, and I'm greeted with big brown eyes. It's shocking to see eyes that haven't been hardened from a life of seeing too much and secrecy. Baby Alex's eyes are full of innocence, and I never want to see that change.

**February 28th, 1987**

John is finally back to work after his paternity leave. He could have taken more time off, but he wanted to get back. Blunt calls us into his office. Next to him are two people. One is a young woman with dark skin and long, straight jet black hair. The other is a man with short light brown hair, worried eyes, and anxiety creased across his tired face.

"Agent John Rider, Agent Ian Rider, meet Agent Tulip Jones and Sir Graham Adair. He is the Permanent Secretary to the Cabinet Office on Downing Street."

"Hello, sir." John and I said together. Sir Graham nods in our direction.

"Gentlemen," Blunt says, addressing John and me, "We have a problem. Sir Graham has an 18-year-old son called George Adair. Our friends over at Scorpia kidnapped him, thinking that Sir Graham can help them politically. However, he doesn't have the influence to help them, and because of this, they are going to kill him. We have a hostage rescue situation. We have to get George back, alive, preferably without angering Julia Rothman."

John's ears turned red at the mention of Julia. I wonder what exactly happened between them.

"So," I muse, "You need to get George Adair out of Scorpia's hands, or he'll die. Do we have anything they want? I know we imprisoned some of their people."

"No one of enough significance." Blunt sighs.

John is deep in thought. "What about me?"

"You?" Blunt asks, clearly confused.

John sighs. "Ian asked if we had anything they wanted. We have me. Scorpia wants me, and most importantly, Julia, she, um…" John blushes.

"Spit it out, John," I urge him on.

"Julia Rothman fell in love with me!" John shouts, "And I bet we can manipulate her feeling for me into taking me back in a prisoner exchange between George and me."

John's comment concerns me. "What about Helen? What about Alex? You're just going to leave them for Julia and your mission?"

"No. God, no. We can fake it, right Mr. Blunt? We can fake a shooting. Once you get George, you can fake my death, because I can't go back."

"Interesting," Blunt considers, "Yes, that could work. Agent Jones?" He gestures towards the female agent. "Contact our friends at Scorpia, and see what they think about a prisoner exchange between George Adair and John Rider." Agent Jones nods her head.

Blunt turns to John, "You do know that Scorpia can never find out about this. They'll kill you if they do. You will have to go into hiding. Besides your wife and son, you won't be able to trust anybody outside of this office ever again. You do understand this, Agent Rider, don't you?"

"I do," John nodded, "Now that I have a son, I know how horrible it would be to lose him. I want to help Sir Graham get his son back."

Blunt nodded. "Okay, Agent John Rider, go to Conference Room 4 and help Agent Jones plan this out. Choose a neutral territory, like a bridge," He looks at the two agents, "Dismissed."

They walk out, leaving just Blunt, Sir Graham, and I in the office.

"And then there were three," I mumble. Blunt casts me a look.

"So," Sir Graham starts, trying to change the subject, "How are you and John related?"

"We're brothers," I say, "He's Golden Boy, and I'm the disappointment."

Sir Graham just laughs. Blunt glares at me again. This just gets me going. "You can see the disappointment on Blunt's face whenever I enter a room."

"Dismissed, Agent Rider," Blunt growls.

"Disappointment!" I yell as I leave the room, cackling.

**March 13th, 1987**

Today is a big day, for two reasons. One, baby Alex turns one-month-old today. Two, it's the day of the Albert Bridge Prisoner Exchange. John and I met last night to discuss it. Helen knows nothing.

John and George are to walk towards each other on Albert Bridge. George will walk to MI6 agents, while John will walk to Scorpia operatives. Once they meet in the middle, Agent Jones will call the order, and a sniper will shoot John in the back. However, the bullet will be fake, and John will be wearing a bulletproof shirt under a heavily padded jacket. One of the pads in the jacket will be replaced with a spark and a patch filled with fake blood. Once he hears Agent Jones' signal, he would activate the spark and patch and throw himself forward, pretending to be dead.

I saw him practicing, and it was bloody hilarious. Alan Blunt hired an acting coach for John so it looked realistic. I couldn't breathe, because I was laughing so hard at my brother throwing himself across the floor. Blunt, however, didn't see it this way, and told me "I needed to be more serious if I ever wanted to see the field again."

Anyways, I spent the day with Helen and Alex. I wanted to be there for her if she is told that the mission went wrong and John was dead. For all Helen knows, John is at Royal and General today, and I just got a random day off.

Alex is getting cuter by the day. He still sleeps a lot, and he hasn't grown much, but he has big, brown, beautiful eyes that show a sparkle of pure interest whenever he opens them. He looks a hell of a lot like his dad, but when he smiles I see a spark of Helen. The still have the same doe-eyed innocence.

I try my best to focus on Alex. It distracts me from what's happening on Albert Bridge. I'm on the edge of my seat when Alan Blunt calls.

"Agent Ian Rider, the mission was a success. Help Agent John Rider's wife and son pack their belongings. They're moving to a home. Meet me at the bank for specifics."


	9. The Christening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider and crew. They belong to Anthony Horowitz. The only thing mine is some of the plot and the OCs. Enjoy!

 

 

 

**August 16th, 1987**

Today is Alex's Christening. He is 6 months old now and growing so fast. He has wispy fair hair that looks just like Helen's. His big brown eyes still sparkle when he looks around, carefully taking in his surroundings.

I'm at John and Helen's new home: another MI6 safe house. This one is in Watford, which is about an hour from London. They wanted to stay in England until their son's baptism, but Blunt thought it would be best to keep them away from London, because of Scorpia's watchful eyes. However, I know that this is one of the last times I'll see them, at least for a while, because John is quitting MI6 for good to spend more time with his wife and newborn son. They plan on moving elsewhere, probably to France or the Netherlands, to start a new life. _I'll miss them a lot. I've spent so much time with John, Helen, and Alex over the past year. It's crazy to think that just last August, I got that distressed phone call from Helen, needing a ride to the drugstore. Damn. We really packed a lot into a year. I know I just said this, but I really will miss the company, and the banter, and the love. Without them, the closest thing I have to a friend is Alan Blunt, and he's not much for personal conversation._

John is running around, trying to figure out which tie to wear. Meanwhile, Helen is desperately trying to dress Alex in an adorable white suit with a cross on it. I sit down amidst the chaos. God. I really will miss it. "Mr. Godfather," John announces, finally recognizing my presence on his couch, "Which one?" he asks me, referring to two ties. I point to the light blue one because it matches Helen's dress. I myself am wearing a brown one to match Alex's eyes. Finally, finally, everyone is ready when there is a knock at the door.

"Ash, buddy," John exclaims, "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better, man," Ash laughs, hugging John. _Why is he even here, to be Alex's Godmother?_

"So," I ask casually, "Who is Alex's godmother?"

"We don't have one," John admits, "We were going to ask one of Helen's mates from Uni, but what with Scorpia crawling down our necks, we decided it would be safer not to." Ash and I nodded. This was perfectly reasonable.

"Hey, how about I take a family picture of you guys?" Ash suggests. He takes one of just John, Helen, and Alex, and one where I'm in the picture too. _Looking back, this is the last picture I will ever take with my brother and sister-in-law._

"Oh, shit!" I exclaim.

"Ian! Language!" Helen scolds, gesturing at baby Alex, who is content gnawing on his mother's wedding ring.

"Wow, great job Ian, being scolded for cursing, what a fool," John teases.

I roll my eyes playfully, about to make a snarky comeback, when Ash says, "Yeah, Ian, do you want his first words to be a swear word?" I stare him down. _You know what? I BLOODY hate this FUCKING PRICK!_

I keep this to myself, though, not wanting to be an embarrassment. "Anyways," I say, changing the subject, "I forgot Alex's Christening gift at home. I'll be right back." I leave quickly so I won't be late for my only nephew's baptism.

Back at my Chelsea house, the phone is ringing off the hook. I quickly pick it up. "Hello?"

"Agent Rider, where have you been? I've called you three times." Blunt demanded.

"Mr. Blunt, it's Sunday. I wasn't home."

"I need you to come to the bank now. It's very important." Blunt says. I can hear the urgency in his voice.

"Okay," I say, not protesting because I have been kind of been pissing Blunt off lately, "I'll be right in." He hangs up.

I sigh, dialing the phone at Helen and John's house. "Hello?" John answers.

"John, I'm really sorry, brother, but I'll meet you guys at the church. Blunt just called, and he needs me at the bank. I'll be there on time, I swear."

"Okay, Ian." John hangs up. I'm glad that he picked up the phone because he of all people would understand why I was going to work at a time like this.

I drive over to the Royal and General. It's a far drive from Watford. "Agent Rider, we have an emergency. There we have gained intel that a pharmaceuticals plant is planning on poisoning children's medicine. We don't know how, or when, or what their motives are, but I'm sending you in. Congratulations, Agent Rider, you have been hired as a janitor at the Santa Maria Pharmaceuticals Plant in Panama City, Panama."

"Wow!" I exclaimed sarcastically, "A promotion!"

"Agent Rider. This is urgent. Your flight from Heathrow leaves in an hour."

_An hour?! What about the Christening? I'm Alex's Godfather, for fuck's sake._ I open my mouth to protest but Blunts stern glare makes me stop. "Can I use your telephone?" I sigh. I have to tell John and Helen that their son's Godfather won't be at his Christening.

I call John, and explain everything, except the mission details. He sighs.

"I'm really sorry, John. I love you guys, but I have to get my ass home to pack, and then I have to run over to Heathrow for my flight. I'm so sorry."

John sighs, again. "Well, the baptism is in two hours, and it's too late to cancel now. I guess we'll have to make Ash the godfather. I'm sorry, man." I hang up. _Fucking Ash. I hate Ash. He is an annoying, position-stealing creep, and never seeing him again is the only good thing that will come out of my brother and his family leaving._ I'm fuming as I take my plane ticket from Blunt. I get up, about to storm out the door.

"Agent Rider, calm down. Smithers wants to talk to you. You'll need a way to contact us, and a way to tap their phones."

I nod. I only half listen to what Smithers says. I am pissed. I arrive at Heathrow just in time for my flight and begin memorizing my cover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for such a short chapter. These events couldn't really be mixed with the ones from the previous or next chapters. The next one will definitely be longer.


	10. Luck of the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider and crew. They belong to Anthony Horowitz. The only thing mine is some of the plot and the OCs. Enjoy!
> 
> -So I just realized that the timeline in Coda (Horowitz chapter about John and Helen's deaths) say that that they died in April 1987, when Alex was just 3 months old. In mine, they will die in December of that same year. Welp. Sorry for the inconsistency, but my timeline still works.
> 
> -Also, 80s technology confuses me. The computer-y stuff is probably not accurate, but I tried. Comment for edits.
> 
> -John and Helen Rider have been hiding in an MI6 safe house since Albert Bridge, except the Christening, and not allowed to leave. They were seen then, and Scorpia is waiting to make their move. There only contact with the outside world is with Ian, Ash, the nanny, and Blunt, who delivers them needed items, such as grocery and things, personally.

**December 7th, 1987**

4 months later, I return from Panama. Because of OSA, I can't share any details, except that it was successful. The snowing cold of London is a shock to me, as I roll in from 80° Panama with a deep golden tan. The first thing I do after Blunt's debriefing is head over to John and Helen's house. Blunt says that they were waiting to say goodbye to me before they left with Alex to Marseilles, France. I am grateful for the snippet of information.

"Thank you, Mr. Blunt." I turn to leave. Just as my hand touches the handle, I turn around. "Mr. Blunt? I'm sorry I've been so on-edge lately. Things have been insane with John and Helen, and I haven't been able to properly handle the stress. I-, I just-"

"It's all over now, Agent Rider," Blunt nods, accepting my apology, "For better, or for worse."

As I drove over to John's house, I considered what Blunt said. Yeah, it would suck not seeing my family anymore, but we could manage. I would see them again someday, I'll make sure of it. Honestly, though, it will be nice not to have any more distractions. I could really get back into the swing of MI6 things, and work my way up. Maybe even get a promotion a few years down the road. Yes. this is best for all of us. John, Helen, and Alex get a new life, away from Scorpia, and I will be able to focus on my job more. Also, I won't have to see Ash anymore, so that's a plus.

Speaking of Ash, Smithers told me that Blunt really chewed him out after the clusterfuck that was Mdina. There are rumors he's that he was axed and is looking for work elsewhere. I'm okay with this. I need a fresh start.

I don't know. I'm just in a weird place right now, emotionally. I'm relieved to be home from the mission, and happy that it went well. I'm upset that my family is leaving for France, indefinitely. However, I'm pleased that they will be safe. I want Alex to grow up with a father, so I'm glad that John is getting out of the field for good.

When I arrive at John and Helen's, it's chaotic, as per usual. Boxes line the walls, filled with tokens of John, Helen, and Alex's lives. Baby Alex, now almost 10 months old, is wailing, loudly. Helen and what appears to be a nanny are desperately trying to calm the boy down, but nothing they try is working out. The screaming continues, as I find John in his bedroom. I stand in the door frame, arms crossed, arms crossed with my back against the wall. He is sitting, staring at his shoes. His head is in his hands and his eyes look moist.

"John, brother, what's up?"

He looks up, unsurprised to see me. "Ian," he chokes out.

"John, what's wrong?"

"Tomorrow. We're leaving, Little Brother, for good. I may damn well never see you again."

"Come on John. We totally will," I say, not quite believing it myself.

"How? Scorpia is crawling up my ass. They will kill me if they so much as glimpse me. I'll never be able to come back home to England. Hell, I'll probably need plastic surgery, as will Alex, because he got the misfortune of inheriting my looks."

"Yeah," I deadpan, "Poor kid looks just like you. Misfortune is correct. If the kid had any sense at all, he'd look like Helen. Plastic surgery will be the only way to save him from that trauma."

John doesn't laugh. Instead, he yells. "How the hell can you joke at a time like this?"

I am taken aback. This is the first time that John, my older brother by a mere 18 months, has ever yelled at me. Not even over petty things when we were children has he ever raised his voice at me. I can't help but let a tear fall down the side of my face. "John. I'm sorry. I am just trying to make light of a shitty situation. This isn't goodbye." I struggle to get that last part out.

"Ian, I'm sorry," John gets up and puts a hand on my left shoulder. "I am incredibly stressed out, because we are fleeing the country tomorrow, and my infant son just came down with an ear infection and may not even be able to come. I'm really stressed out, and I'm being a dick by taking it out on you, and I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I sigh, and we hug it out. "You are a dick, though."

"Forever and always," John laughs.

Having to get the last word, I say: "Now you'd best hope that Alex didn't inherit that trait of yours too." John laughs again, leading me to the kitchen, where Helen is desperately trying to feed a screaming Alex.

I reach over to hug her and am rewarded with Alex spitting something mushy and green onto my arm. I pat the top of his head with my non-green hand. "Thanks, buddy," I say to my nephew, laughing. Looking at John, I deadpan: "Maybe your son did inherit the, um, trait that we discussed earlier." John rolls his eyes, while Helen looks on, confused. She knows us well enough by now to not ask questions.

"So," I say, addressing the elephant in the room, "How will we spend our last night together? I vote that the three of us get plastered and tell embarrassing stories about John Rider." I cackle.

"Yeah, I'm down," John cracks a smile. I'm glad he's feeling better.

"H?" I ask. She'll probably be the hard one to convince, as she has a sick baby.

"Sounds great, actually," She admits, to my surprise. Addressing the nanny, she asks, "Maude, do you mind watching Alex tonight? Preferably in his bedroom."

"Of course not, Helen," Maude replies in a deep Irish accent. She smiles at Alex, whisking him off to bed.

"Hell yes, H!" I exclaimed, hugging her tightly, "Nothing like a little alcohol to wash your problems away."

John rolls his eyes. "Ian, with you, it's always more than a 'little alcohol.'"

"Well obviously it's going to be an obscene amount of drinking, we are getting plastered tonight." I shoot back. "Also, I'm in charge of food, drinks, the works." Looking at John, I ask "How exactly do you contact Blunt to buy your food and shit?" John explains to me that there is a notebook. When he writes on it, the writing shows up on Blunt's identical notebook.

John eyes me, suspiciously. "Why, Ian?"

"No reason," I say innocently. "I just think that the drinks are on Blunt."

"He's going to kill you," John laughs.

"Probably, but by the time he's done lecturing, I'll be too drunk to care."

"Touché," John shrugs.

I write down a list to Blunt, childishly signing it "Your favorite Agent, Ian Rider <3." Yes, I actually drew the heart.

Two hours later, Blunt arrives with a box full of tequila, cases of beer, cookies, water, frozen pizza, and cheese and crackers. _Alcohol, drunk foods, and water to help with the hangovers._

"The only reason I did this for you, Ian, is so I can see you at work tomorrow, nice and hungover. 8 a.m works for me." _Damn. Blunt can be petty._

"Love you, Boss," I blow a kiss. Blunt rolls his eyes.

"8a.m., Agent Rider."

Blunt walks over to Helen, shaking her hand. "Mrs. Rider, I want to formally apologize for treating you poorly. I was stressed, and you did not deserve it." Helen nods. _Damn. A Blunt apology. Someone's feeling emotional._

"And John," Blunt sighs, pulling my older brother in for a hug, "I'll miss you over at Royal and General. You were one of the best agents MI6 ever had." Blunt looks over at me. "Also, John, you were always so well behaved. Unlike your delinquent brother over there."

I laugh.

Blunt continues, ignoring me. "Good luck, John, and if you or your family ever need anything, and I do mean anything, talk to me. Goodbye, Agent Rider." Blunt says, using John's 'work-name' for the very last time. Blunt saluted John and left.

John was crying. "Damn, did Blunt and I just have a 'moment?'"

"I think you did," I laugh.

John sighs, heavily. "Let's drink."

A few drinks later…

"So we're at our Great-aunt Jane's house, horrible women-she smelled like mothballs and hated John and I-anyways, she fed John and I the most disgusting tuna salad sandwiches. So John decides to feed them to this big, fat cat she had. About an hour later, we were watching TV with Jane, and the cat threw up this smelly tuna mix all over her. It was horrible," I laugh, collecting myself, "So John says, 'Hey Auntie, I think you've got a little tuna on your everywhere.' So Jane is screaming at John, while I'm laughing my ass off on the far end of the couch. Jane got so pissed at us because we wouldn't admit we'd done anything wrong, so she phoned our mum to come to collect us. However, and I didn't notice at the time, John had only fed the cat my sandwich. He had buried his own in Jane's potted plant. Well, we ate lunch there every other Sunday, and my the next week, the entire house reeked. Jane had to move, it smelled so bad, and she brought the plant with her. It took her a year, and three separate houses before she finally realized that there was rotten tuna at the bottom of her plant," I struggle to breathe, I am laughing so hard, "And," I conclude, "That is when I learned never to cross John Rider." By now, everyone is drunk, carefree, and laughing their asses off. It's the best I've felt in ages.

"I've got one," Helen smirks, "So, in college when John and were first starting to date, he invites me over to his dorm, saying that he 'needs my help dealing with an awkward situation.' I have no idea what to expect, but I go down anyways. So, I get to the dorm, and I hear a horrible squealing noise. It turns out, for John's 22nd birthday, which was the night before and the last time I'd seen him, he and his mates got super drunk and bought 22 hamsters to celebrate. Seriously, these things were everywhere. It took 4 hours to find them all." Helen laughs at the memory.

"I only vaguely remember that," John admits, laughing. I must have been blackout drunk."

"You were," Helen laughs at her husband.

"I've got one about Ian." John laughs.

Helen looks at the clock. It's almost 3a.m. "One more, John, then I'm going to bed. Ian, are you still crashing here?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Anyways," John begins, "When Ian was about 15, he brought a girl home for the first time."

"Oh, shit," I laugh, remembering this story. "Her name was Samantha Caldwell."

"Right, Samantha," John continues, "So anyway, Ian decides to cook her dinner. Mind you, this knucklehead has never prepared anything more than a bowl of oatmeal."

"15-year-old Ian Rider was very overconfident in his abilities," I laugh.

"Was?" John asks, sarcastically. "Stop interrupting me, damn it. Okay, so Ian, being the fool he is decides to make spaghetti with tomato sauce. However, he has no idea how to do this. First, he pours a jar of sauce into a pot on the stove. Then, he pours an entire box of pasta into the pot and pours some cheese on top. He leaves it there for about 30 minutes. What he comes back to is a massacre. The pasta burnt and stuck to the bottom of the pot. The sauce bubbled up and splashed all over the stove, and the cheese burnt and caught fire. Let's just say that the Spaghetti incident of '59 ended with Samantha leaving because she was splashed in the face by burning hot sauce while helping clean up, 3 hours of cleaning, another 2 hours of mum lecturing Ian, and mandatory cooking lessons for a month."

"Is that why you would always order takeout when you would come over while John was gone?" Helen asks, suspiciously.

I try to answer her, but tears are streaming down my face, and I'm laughing my ass off, so I just settle for a nod.

"Okay, boys, I'm going to bed," Helen laughs. Eyeing me, she says "Ian, try not to burn the house down." She gets up to leave.

John and I begin cleaning the remnants of our little party, in silence.

"I'm really going to miss you, brother," I say. "You had better keep in touch with me. Let me know what's going on in your life, and send pictures of Alex."

"Only of Alex?"

"Well, Helen too, of course. Let's face it, John, you're not getting any cuter."

He laughs. "Thanks. You have to update me too. You know, with big milestones, like you learning to cook, or getting a girlfriend or something."

"John, there's something that's been bugging me, for months now. Who exactly is Julia Rothman?"

My brother groaned. "She's the only woman on the executive board of Scorpia."

"Wow," I tease, "Johnny likes powerful women."

"I didn't do anything with her, I wouldn't cheat on Helen. We just had dinner a few times, and that's all."

"Goodnight, John,"

"See you in the morning, Ian."

**December 8th, 1987**

The next morning, John and Helen wake me up at 6:30. I feel like shit. They are leaving in an hour to catch their flight to France. I have to leave in an hour to face Blunt at work today. Little Alex will be staying with Maude, because his doctor, someone who MI6 brought in, says that he isn't allowed to fly. Helen is upset and wants to stay with her baby, but John convinced her that it would be best for everyone if Alex stayed home for a week, and they were already set up in France.

Unfortunately, it's time for John and Helen to leave. I hug Helen first.

"Good luck in France, H, I love you."

"Aww, Ian, thank you for everything."

I look over at John, He's crying a little, Helen is crying a little, and I'm crying a lot.

"Goodbye, big brother."

"I'll see you on the other side, little brother."

They say goodbye to Alex, and then he, Maude, and I wave them off.

I say goodbye to Maude and Alex, promising to return before they left for France for a proper goodbye. I get in my car and leave for work. I get there at 7:45. As I walk to my office, Blunt laughs at me. "Rough night, Agent Rider?"

Around 10 o'clock, Blunt calls me into his office. I can tell that he is very upset about something, but is trying to hide it. He turns his computer towards me. "Watch this, Agent Rider."

I do as I'm told. On Blunt's screen is CCTV footage of a secret airport. A man and a woman walk up to the plane. The footage is of a low quality, but I quickly recognized the figures as my brother and sister-in-law. John helps Helen into the plane before climbing in after her. A few minutes later, the plane takes off. I watch intently as it lifts off into the air. However, the plane doesn't get very far. Seconds after it leaves the ground, it is consumed in a fiery explosion of yellow, orange, and red. Nothing survives. No one survives.

I look over at Blunt. He is crying. _Alan Blunt is crying. Why is Alan Blunt crying?_

Then, it hits me like a bus. _John and Helen are dead. My loving big brother and his amazing wife are dead. Gone. I will never see them again. I will never hear Helen's laughter, or John's sarcasm again. I will never see their beautiful young faces in person again. I will never hear updates about their lives again because they just ended._

_I am in shock. I can't move. I can't breathe. My brother is dead. Helen is dead. I am alone. Alex is alone. Oh my god, Alex. His parents are gone. What will become of him? His parents are dead. Alex is alone._

Somehow, another thought surfaces in my jumbled brain. _Looks aren't the only thing that Little Alex inherited from his father. That ear infection saved his life. Alex inherited his father's Luck of the Devil._


	11. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider and crew. They belong to Anthony Horowitz. The only thing mine is some of the plot and the OCs. Enjoy!

 

**December 8th, 1987**

Blunt and I sit in his office, just crying for a few more hours. Me, for the loss of my childhood idol and best friend, and Blunt for his best agent, and his good friend. We haven't spoken since before he showed me the CCTV footage. Neither of us knows what the hell to say. Finally, after hours of silence, we look each other in the eyes.

"Scorpia," Blunt said plainly. I nod, expecting this.

"I don't even understand. How did they find out?"

"Scorpia is a vast organization with numerous connections. It's no surprise that they found out." Blunt says, factually.

"Albert Bloody Bridge." He sighs. "We never should have gone through with that. We should have left well enough alone after Mdina, and just paid for his plastic surgery. Albert Bridge made him a target, and it was not a risk that we should have taken. It cost us our best agent, and it cost you your family, Ian."

"I can't believe he's really gone," I sigh, looking Blunt in the eyes, "He was my big brother, my idol. What the hell do we do now?"

"What you do now, is answer a few questions for me, Ian. What do you want to do about John's son?"

"What?" I ask, still not fully able to process the situation.

"John's infant son. He will need a guardian. The way I see it, you have a few options. One, you, his next of kin, adopts him. Two, Ash, his godfather, adopts him. Three, your mother adopts him. Four, we put him up for general adoption, and hope that a nice family somewhere wants him. Personally, I think that there are issues with every option. I understand that the son looks quite a bit like John. If he is sent off to another family, he could be recognized and killed. Your mother, his only living relative besides you, isn't a good plan either. First of all, he doesn't know her. Second of all, I hear she has cancer and hasn't got much time to live, and we would be having this same conversation in a year or two. Next, Ash is a fool, and John Rider's son deserves better than him. He was recently injured, and can barely take care of himself. Also, he just resigned from MI6, so he is currently out of a job. The last option is that you adopt him yourself. I know that you love and care for him, but you also love your job and your country. You will be away a lot, presumably, which will be hard to explain when he's older. Also, you are in a dangerous line of work and could die at any time, leaving the boy alone. John didn't have a will, so I'm leaving it to you to decide. I will support whatever decision you make, and help you go through with it."

"Damn." is all I can say. _I can't leave Alex with my mother, because she is sick and moving to a nursing home next month. I don't trust Ash with the only son of John and Helen Rider, so he's out. I don't think I could stand never seeing Alex again, and I feel like I would be betraying John and Helen if I didn't raise him._

"I'll adopt him," I say, "I'll adopt him, and I will teach him how to survive. I can't let the only son of John Rider be put to waste. I am going to raise him in his father's footsteps-to be a damn good spy. I don't know anything about children, but I know a lot about training a spy. Imagine, Blunt, a spy trained from birth." _Hell, it may not be traditional, but this is damn well Alex's best option. He can choose not to join MI6, but I will give him the skills he needs to thrive there._

Blunt perked up this. "It's not a terrible idea," Blunt admitted, "But what about if you're killed before he's 18? What should I do with him?"

"You're a smart man, Mr. Blunt, I'm leaving that up to your discretion. Just not Ash. Never Ash."

Blunt nods. "Alright, Ian, take a week off, and then come back and I'll help you get custody of---"

"Alex."

"Right. I'll help you get custody of Alex."

"Thank you, Mr. Blunt."

I leave. I really need to be alone. I'll pick up Alex and explain to the maid tomorrow, but I need some alone time to process my feeling. I can't help but cry on my way home. _I just lost half of my remaining family. My mother will be dead in a year, and now I have to raise a child. It's been a rough ass day._

When I get home, the first thing I do is call my mother to inform her of John and Helen's deaths. I truly pity my mother. On her deathbed, she loses her favorite son and beloved daughter-in-law. I promise to visit, soon, so she can meet Alex, and we can talk.

I sit on my couch, feeling sorry for myself, for the next few hours. Around 8 o'clock, there is a knock at my door. Ash.

"How the hell do you know where I live?" I demand. I am not in the mood for Ash right now.

He looks weird and distant, "I asked Maude. Anyways, I heard the news, and I was wondering if you'd like to get a drink with me."

I agree, because why the hell not, and we go to John's favorite pub. We talk for about an hour. Ash is going to Australia this week to work for ASIS, the Australian secret service. I tell him that I am adopting and raising Alex.

"Don't worry, Ian, I won't come around much. I know I'm not exactly your favorite person."

We shake hands and set off our separate ways. It was a short conversation, but I'm glad that we had it.

As I walk inside from my car, I see the neighbors putting up Christmas lights. _Last year, around the holidays, we were all so happy. We were a family. God. What a year can change. Hell, what a night can change._

_It's been a crazy year-and-a-half. From Helen's first pregnancy test to her death, it has been one hell of a ride._

_Alex will never know his parents, and I owe him at least some of the truth._ Knowing what I have to do, I walk inside and begin to write.


	12. Reminders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider and crew. They belong to Anthony Horowitz. The only thing mine is some of the plot and the OCs. Enjoy!

Alex looked up from the last page of his uncle's diary. Tears were streaming down his pale face. He looked over at Jack, who was sitting next to him, deep in thought. "Why am I so upset about the death of people I never even knew?"

Jack reached over and hugged Alex. _God_ , she thought to herself, _Alex is so freaking young sometimes. He's smart, clever, and confident in crazy spy situations, but damn. Things must be horribly wrong when he actually acts his age._

Alex hugged her back, knocking the book of sad off of the table. "I can't believe my mum slapped Alan Blunt," Alex sniffled, "She just did want I've wanted to for months. A note fell out. Alex picked it up and began to read.

_Alex,_

_If you are reading this, I am dead. You probably know the truth about your parents and I. (well, definitely after reading this journal) I want to apologize for being so distant during your childhood. I never fully recovered from the death of your parents, and some days, you were only a living reminder of what we lost. You look just like your father and have your mother's eyes. I truly love you, but sometimes, when I looked at you, all I saw was them. That's part of why I was always away with MI6. Also, because I really do love both England and my job. It's not your fault, I never held it against you, and Alex, I did always love you. I was only doing what I thought was right. Also, I'm sorry for dying. The reason I wrote this diary is for you. You deserve to know the truth about your past. This message is a mess, and I apologize for that too, but what the hell do you say in your death note to your last living relative and closest living friend?_

_Whatever you do in the world, do good. (Whether you choose to be a spy or not, it's all the same to me.) It's what I always did, and it's what your father would've wanted. I'm so proud of you Alex. I am, and always will be._

_I love you, forever and always._

_Ian Rider, 1/17/1988_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end of my story! Thanks to everyone who stuck it out to the end! Please, leave a comment telling me how you like it/what I should improve on, as this is my first fanfiction. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoyed it! Also, if you liked it, I recently published a new story, called "I Spy," and you should definitely check it out!
> 
>  
> 
> ~flowerforzoe


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